


side by side in this gentle descent

by heartstrings



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Best Friends, First Time, M/M, Pop Culture, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartstrings/pseuds/heartstrings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron and Nasir are film students in California.  They’re friends. And they’re about to become roommates. It’s not uncomplicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	side by side in this gentle descent

**Author's Note:**

> So I love this show and this fandom, but I'm so not skilled enough to write in the canon language. Therefore modern AU. But let me just say how in awe I am of every one of you that can and do write fics in canon. You guys rock. Hope you enjoy my little contribution. :)

The first few weeks back to school are always the easiest and the hardest. Everyone’s coming off of a relatively decent amount of rest but the adjustment is rough. This time around Nasir spends the first month with a mug of coffee attached to his hand and a pack of caffeine pills in his pocket for when the night shoots run unbearably long, which they always do.

“If you get addicted to that shit and have a nervous breakdown I’m gonna start calling you Jessie Spano,” Agron says.  


“ _I need them, Zack. I have to sing_!” Nasir bemoans while he watches the set director running around trying to set up the scene for the second unit. 

Agron puffs out a laugh. “Good luck getting to sleep tonight.”  


He takes a seat beside Nasir on the sidewalk, a few feet from where Mira is hastily rewriting some dialogue and Crixus is trying to block a scene.

“Not too different from any other night,” Nasir shrugs and Agron rests his head on Nasir’s shoulder, his breath painting patches of his neck with warmth.

It’s quiet near their corner of the street, the sounds of everyone rushing around them muffled. Agron’s quiet. He’s not talking much these days and it’s starting to freak Nasir out a little.

“Did I tell you about that studio I saw in the paper last week?” He says, just to say something.

“Don’t think so,” Agron answers, shifting his legs, but he doesn’t move.

Nasir licks at his lower lip. “Yeah, it was a fucking shoebox. It didn’t even have a real oven, just a stove and like half a sink. So I’m looking at apartments next, I think.”

“To rent alone or with a roommate?”

“Not sure. Have to see what I can afford first.”

 

+

  


Naevia takes him apartment hunting over the weekend. Between classes, workshops and working on their group short film for the semester their time is limited. Nasir is desperate to find his own space so that he can stop sponging off of Naevia and Crixus. She likes to assure him that he’s not bother, but living with a couple as a third wheel isn’t exactly comfortable for anyone involved.  
  
Last year he’d roomed with Kore and it had been great. She was quiet and clean and liked to watch Doctor Who reruns with him and eat Chinese take out on the couch under a pile of blankets. They’d had an easy friendship and a great living arrangement and then she’d gone and graduated. Which was awesome for her but shitty for Nasir who’d had go home to his parents for the summer because he couldn’t afford the apartment on his own. He’d loved that apartment. It was an amazing fucking apartment and now it’s being desecrated by Gannicus and Donar and probably Saxa’s drunken debauchery.  
  
He forces himself not to think about it.  
  
The day starts out promising with a small two bedroom that’s practically pristine and in a well maintained building but really very much over his price range. The next two are smaller, dirtier and even more expensive. The fourth has ants running up the side of the toilet and a creepy landlord named Gaius that stares at Nasir for longer than is appropriate.  
  
“Please don’t live there,” Naevia says on when they’re back in her car.  
  
Nasir laughs. “Uh yeah, no.”  
  
The afternoon thereafter quickly degenerates. Everything available is too expensive or a complete dump. Everyone that’s looking for a roommate comes off either just this side of weird and invasive or perfectly polite and good-natured, but regardless none of the places feel like the right fit.  
  
The last apartment they check out is about a thirty minute commute from the university ground, but is actually quite nice and homey and definitely within his budget. Still he wavers.

“You have anything else within this price range?” He asks the building owner.

“No,” she says. “And it’ll probably be occupied soon if you don’t sign a lease within the week.”

Nasir glances around the open living room with the actual human-sized kitchen and counter space for a microwave and even a toaster. It’s as good as it’s probably going to get it. He should snatch this place up while he can.  


“I’ll think about it and get back to you,” he says.

 

+

  
 

They’re on lunch break. It’s been cloudy for the last three days and Nasir’s lower back hurts from walking outside in the rain for hours trying to scout locations for their next shoot. Agron’s been complaining about his legs cramping and Gannicus has been bitching about running out of money because that’s what production majors do with their free time. Everyone’s in a great mood.

“I look tired,” he says, standing inside Agron’s bathroom. He stares blankly at his reflection in the tiny mirror above the sink.

“You are tired. We’re all tired,” Agron replies from the kitchen. He’s reading from what looks to be a paperback copy of _The Republic_.

“I think I’m getting gray hairs from stress,” he says, squinting and twisting his head up and down, side to side. He’s skeptical.

“No. You’re being neurotic,” Agron says plainly, as if that helps anything.

“I hate you. Stop talking,” Nasir grumbles, turning and bending to get a look at the top of his head. 

A second later Agron’s right beside him, pushing his way into the miniature sized bathroom so that he can stand behind Nasir. He lays his big paws on Nasir’s shoulders and says, “Still.” Then he’s running his fingers through Nasir’s hair, over his scalp, down to the nape of his neck. Nasir shivers and bites the inside of his cheek, props his hands against the sink so he won’t sway backwards.

“Looks fine to me,” Agron says after a quiet moment and walks away.

Nasir listens to him flip through the pages of his book from the other room. It’s quiet for a long time.

 

+

 

The front door is unlocked when he gets to Agron’s place the next day, so he lets himself inside and is immediately attacked by a slobbering tongue and blunt claws. He herds Flora into the living room where Agron’s sprawled out on the carpet playing _Gears of War_ , Xbox controller in hand as he concentrates on watching the television.

“Any luck?”

Nasir sighs and crouches down to scratch Flora under her chin. “Nope. It was a dump just like the place I saw yesterday and the other studio was taken. I’m about ready to give up and just live Naevia’s tub forever.”

“You could stay here,” Agron says casually.

“What? Like live here?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Nasir frowns. “This could end so badly. What if we get sick of each other?”

Agron grins, but his gaze never wavers from the television screen. “Like that would ever happen. I’m awesome.”  
Nasir ignores that comment for the moment.

“How much rent does this place charge? Cause, um, you know I’m pretty broke.” He reaches over to scratch Flora behind the ear, tilting uncomfortably forward.

“You’d be helping me ok? So don’t worry about it.”

Flora pushes between him and Agron to lick at the side of his nose. Her breath smells like moldy Doritos. Nasir’s stomach knots uncomfortably. 

He tries to quickly weigh all the pros and cons of moving in with someone that he…well, with someone like Agron. It’s probably a shit idea. But it’s Agron and he’s never ever made good decisions when it comes to Agron so he decides to take ownership of his shit idea and says, “Uh okay. Why not?”

Agron finally turns to look at him then, a bright, pleased smile spread across his face as he holds up a second game controller. “Sweet. Now get over here so I can kick your ass.” 

 

+

 

After that nothing changes really, but everything’s different, like a slanted picture on the wall. He’s not used to having a gigantic kitchen table to sit at for breakfast or a dog jumping at his feet while he’s half awake and fumbling toward the bathroom in the morning.

Agron is five clicks too loud when he’s yelling for Nasir to hurry and get ready. But he always has a bagel waiting for him when he comes in, dressed and a little more alert. They share a thermos of coffee on the ride to school and a 60 oz big gulp on the way home.

They make it four days before Agron lets their arrangement slip to Saxa and by the end of the day everyone on set knows and there’s a gift basket sitting on the hood of Lugo’s van with a note attached that reads: Survival Kit. Inside there’s a jumbo pack of Arm & Hammer deodorant, a bottle of Beano, a half off coupon for five Hungry-Man Frozen dinners, a sixer of Heineken, a box of Crunch ‘n Munch and a red beer koozie that says _Half Pint_.

Agron holds up the koozie to Nasir’s face and bursts out laughing.

Nasir scowls at him. “You better take this shit,” he says throwing the bottle of Beano at Agron’s chest.

Agron catches it in his palm before it falls to the ground, still smiling. “Whatever. I smell like sunshine and rainbows.”

Nasir snorts and grabs the basket, walks to the passenger side door. “FYI: I’m taking the beer. You can’t have any.”

“Stingy little shit,” Agron shakes his head.

“I guess you can have the coupon and some of the deodorant if you must.”

“Very generous.”

“It’s important to give to those less fortunate, Agron. Remember that.”

 

+

 

Agron’s living room is plain. He has his ratty, half decomposing furniture and his used 35 inch plasma TV, but it’s always the floor to ceiling white bookcases that draw Nasir’s attention. It’s hard not to glance at them every time he walks by. He never knew Agron owned so many books. He wonders how many belong to Duro.  


He dismisses the thought quickly.

The television’s on mute when he walks into the room. Agron’s reading a thickly banded script as Nasir plops down next to him at the opposite end of the couch and sets his feet in Agron’s lap. Agron makes a disgusted face, but doesn’t shove his feet away.

“Your feet stink.”

Nasir shrugs and looks around for the remote. “You wash your hair with Pomegranate shampoo.”

“Every time I smell your shoes by the couch I want to cry. You should use foot powder,” he states, then fits his palm over Nasir’s ankle.

“Pomegranate shampoo, asshole.” Nasir feels something digging into his side and sees it’s the remote, success. He starts flipping channels.

“I could buy some for you, Nasir. All you have to do is ask,” Agron says, and he’s emoting, giving Nasir his ‘earnest face’.

Nasir refuses to look at him. “Pomegranate. In your hair,” he replies dryly. “Fail.”  


He turns it to _The Colbert Report_.

“Animal Planet, ”Agron declares, script long forgotten on the floor as he yanks the remote away, one hand pushing buttons as the fingers of the other massage the arch of his foot.

“ _Pomegranate_ ,” Nasir counters, but he lets Agron flip it to _Meerkat Manor_ anyway. He kind of likes this show too.

 

+

 

Nasir gets a call from Donar on Saturday asking if him and Agron want to go out for a beer with a couple of the guys. It’s weird because Donar usually calls Agron about these sorts of things, they’re not really close.

“I tried Agron’s cell, but I guess it’s turned off or something,” Donar explains and Nasir pauses. The more he thinks about it the more he realizes that he’s been living with Agron for three weeks now and Agron hasn’t left the house once other than to go to work or pick up food. The thought makes his skin feel too tight.

“I’ll ask him and call you back,” Nasir says simply and makes his way to the tiny deck out back.

The sliding glass door is open just a crack, but Nasir taps on it regardless before he pushes outside. 

Agron’s propped up in one of the long, plastic lawn chairs, his bare feet peeking out from under his jeans. The sun’s showering down on him and he’s got headphones in his ears and a copy of _American Gods_ in his hand, the cover worn and faded from too much use.

“Donar and the guys want to go out for drinks tonight. You game?” Nasir asks, lingering in the doorway.

Agron bites at his lip thoughtfully then shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. Maybe another time.” 

Nasir watches him go back to his book, face intent. He stays there, feet planted to the hardwood floor a few seconds longer than he should, but Agron never looks back up.

 

+

 

They’re walking to class on a Wednesday when Nasir says, “Spartacus got us tickets to the Lakers game on Friday, nosebleeds seats, but still. How ‘bout it?”

“Not this weekend. I need a break.” Agron treads beside him quietly, so quiet lately.

“You want to stay in? I could get hot dogs, we could cook out instead,” Nasir tries, bumping his elbow against Agron’s arm. Agron elbows back, leans into him for a moment.

“No, I mean. I need a break from _everything_ ,” he says, words coming out in a huff of a breath.

“I…um,” Nasir says stupidly. He’s not sure how else to respond. Agron’s looking down at the ground as they walk, shoes scuffing pebbles, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“My head’s still fucked up, man,” he murmurs dully. “I just need, you know, some time.”

Nasir inhales, it sort of feels like being punched in the sternum.

“Okay,” he says, his voice catching on the word. He clears his throat and they walk the rest of the way in silence.

 

+

 

At the beginning of summer, back when everything between Agron and Duro fell apart, Nasir told himself he’d wait to call. He told himself that Agron didn’t need him, another person, being in his face about something that wasn’t anyone else’s business. He told himself Agron would want to deal with this on his own for a while and then he would call.

Only he waited so long that after a while he forgot what he wanted to say. So he decided to just not say anything at all.

 

+

 

They get three days off at the end of the month for a holiday and Agron tells him that he’s going to LA to spend some quality time with Gannicus. This is - not odd - not technically, because Gannicus and Agron are friends of a sort. Nasir just didn’t realize they were the kind of friends who took spontaneous road trips together. Still. Agron’s getting out and doing something so Nasir doesn’t complain.

Instead he spends most of his weekend in the apartment by himself with Flora. They go to the park and play Frisbee. He takes late evening jogs and texts Mira about homework and workshop bullshit. He doesn’t call Agron, but he does get a text from Gannicus at three in the morning saying: _wtf did u do to him?!?!!_. He has no idea what that’s supposed to mean and figures in all probability Gannicus didn’t even mean to send it to him. He sleeps in the next day until Flora’s scratching at his door to go out; whining for food like she’s been starved for days.

When Agron returns on Sunday evening he’s got dark circles under his eyes and a faint bruise on his cheek. He flops down on the couch and Nasir takes a seat next to him; pokes hard at his face.

“Have fun?”

“I got pretty wasted,” he grunts and bats at Nasir’s hand. “Gannicus tried to make me get a tattoo of a topless mermaid.”

“He would,” Nasir grins and spots Agron’s black duffle bag hanging out by the front door. “I’m not doing your laundry, don’t even ask.”

“Mmm,” Agron hums as he presses his head into a couch cushion. “M’ tired. Don’t wanna go to school tomorrow.”

Nasir watches him pass out, body slumping sideways until he’s pressed against Nasir’s arm, drool pooling on his shirt sleeve. It’s pretty uncomfortable but he doesn’t move, just sits silently for a few minutes, takes in the scent of Agron’s faded cologne and sweaty clothes.  
He doesn’t close his eyes.

 

+

 

Everything shifts after that weekend. Agron’s whole demeanor, the weight of his step and the pull of his shoulders, turns calm, relaxed. To everyone else the change is almost imperceptible.

They do their own things for awhile. Nasir attempts to learn how to make Japanese food in between working on his editing project and getting shit done for the film. Agron spends most of his extra time at school working and when he’s not he takes long walks. Sometimes he’ll be gone for 20 minutes and other times he won’t come back until it’s dark out, and he’s got a handful of tattered hardback’s from the used book store a couple miles away.

“I think I’m gonna try sushi next,” Nasir says one night after they’ve both finished up their vegetable tempura. He stands to clear the table of their empty bowls of miso soup.

“Tofu’s not so bad,” Agron comments picking at the crunchy tempura crumbs on his plate and placing them in his mouth. “Don’t you hate sushi?”

“Yeah, but I’m thinking of giving it a go again. It can’t be as bad as I remember it.” He turns on the faucet to rinse the dishes, unlatches the dishwasher door.

Agron licks his lips. “Brussels sprouts are pretty damn disgusting the last I checked.”

“I bet you’d eat them deep fried.”

“I’d eat your hand if it was deep fried,” Agron grins. “Doesn’t mean you’ll like sushi.”

Nasir pauses. “I’m a philanthropist, ok. I try new things. Now get your ass up.”

Agron purses his lips. “I’m good here, thanks.”

“No. You’re finishing the dishes, and you’re welcome for dinner,” Nasir throws a dish towel at Agron’s head.

It misses and lands on his shoulder. Agron stands and shuffles over to the sink, smacks Nasir’s ass hard. “Love it when you’re bossy.”

Nasir winks at him then promptly walks away.

 

+

 

In the corner of his room on the left side of his bed, next to the wall, Nasir has three unpacked boxes. It’s mostly clothes he doesn’t wear very often, DVD’s he hasn’t watched in a while, a couple of picture frames of his family he never got around to hanging up at his old apartment.

His closet is nearly full and he’s running out of places to set everything else. He’ll need to buy a dresser if he wants to have somewhere to put the rest of his unpacked belongings. But he doesn’t particularly have a lot of free time to go furniture shopping or browse IKEA, so he forgets the boxes, lets them collect dust and dirt, filling up space that’s already full. 

 

+

 

They drive down to San Diego for two days to shoot some beach scenes. Nasir catches up with Mira and they spend an entire afternoon trying to be productive and write. They mostly end up lazing about on the beach all day taking cat naps and eating fruit rollups. Crixus and Naevia show up and make them work for a few hours before taking pity on them and buying everyone _In-N-Out Burger_ so they can have a surprise picnic. Agron steals half his fires as he usually does and gives Nasir the onions off his burger because he hates onions more than life itself.  
Donar and Gannicus nag everyone to go out clubbing later, even Agron, to Nasir’s surprise.  
  
“I might as well or they won’t shut up about it.”  
  
“We should probably head back to the hotel soon,” Nasir says as everyone starts to disperse.  
  
“Let’s stay a little longer,” Agron breathes, his voice almost drowned amongst the crashing waves.  
  
They sprawl out in the sand beside one another and watch as the sky darkens from a rich golden orange to a soft pink to a hazy blue. They don’t, but it’s ok.

+

 

The club they end up at is packed. It’s overheated with too many bodies and not enough space and it’s apparent from the way that Gannicus and Donar start pounding down drinks that the only reason they came here was to get hammered. Agron and Mira seem nonplussed by this development and Nasir can’t say he doesn’t agree.  
  
At some point Mira snags them a booth. Nasir ends up smashed into a corner next to Gannicus with a whiskey sour shoved into his hand as he watches Agron and Donar shoot the shit.

“Can we smoke in here?” Donar asks, tilting an unopened beer in Agron’s direction. He shakes his head.

Mira flicks him a quick irritated glance. “Don’t.”

Some Katy Perry song is playing in the background, the volume too high. It’s distracting.

“I need a light,” Donar eyes Nasir. “Got one?”

Nasir shakes his head and tries to signal a waitress for drink of his own. Everything is glittering and flashing lights. It’s sort of like being inside of a loud, thumping disco ball. Everyone’s yelling over everyone else to be heard and Nasir can’t hear a single thing any of them are saying. The beginnings of a headache is starting form, he wants to leave.

“So we’re walking to the bathroom,” he finally hears Agron say and Nasir’s not sure if this statement is directed at him or the whole group.

“And she comes strolling out of the Men’s with some guy, like that’s perfectly normal, and stops when she sees Agron. Fucking awkward as hell,” Donar laughs, teeth big and shining.

Nasir watches people beyond his table, dancing and smiling. He wishes Crixus and Naevia had decided to come out. He wonders what Spartacus is doing right now and remembers him telling Nasir a couple of days ago that he wouldn’t be able to make it; that he had to stay behind to finish writing a paper for their Narrative Film course.  
  
He always forgets how much this whole party scene isn’t for him until he’s back in the middle of it again.

“I was just trying to be polite,” Agron says. “So I smile and say hi.”

“But she’s already trashed, like, barely able to stand, clutching at the wall and leaning on everyone around her,” Donar adds, gesticulating wildly.  
Nasir’s heard this story a hundred times and it’s never as funny as they seem to think. He sighs and waves for a waiter that’s passing by.

“SoCo and Lime. Two, please,” he croaks out.

Gannicus chuckles beside him. “Aiming for a hangover?”

Nasir ignores him, watches Agron smile, eyes alight as he speaks. “I try to talk to her but she’s not even listening to me, she’s all ‘Hi, Agron. I love your shirt, Agron. It’s hot. Wanna dance?’ And I start to say something but then she stumbles forward, so I reach out to grab her—“

“And she pukes all down the crotch of his pants,” Donar finishes and Gannicus cracks up.

“I hope it was chunky,” Mira adds, unimpressed.

“It was,” Agron smiles at her meanly which only gets her to finally laugh and stick her tongue out at him.  
  
“Ugh, listening to your drunken fratboy stories for the 500th time is boring,” Mira groans, hopping up from her seat. “Nasir come dance with me.”  
  
She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she starts tugging Gannicus up out of the booth so she can take Nasir’s hand and guide him onto the dance floor. As far as distractions go it’s effective, at least until few guys start to get handsy with Mira and then with him. They shuffle to a less populated area of the club and continue on for a few songs and it’s not nice exactly, but it’s weirdly soothing to close his eyes and move and not give a shit about life for awhile.  
  
Mira tries to do some sexy shake-spin combo and ends up crashing into him and they laugh. When he rights her and himself he looks up to see Agron’s dancing as well. It should be funny because Agron’s an utterly horrible dancer, his limbs too large and bulky and forever getting in the way of everyone around him. It should be hilarious to watch him jerk about doing his white boy shuffle, but it’s not.  
  
There’s two men pressed against him, one grinding against his back and the other sliding along his front. One of them is whispering in Agron’s ear, causing him to bark out a sharp laugh. It’s been a while since Nasir’s seem him so relaxed and unburdened. It makes something ache deep in his chest, a squeezing fist around his heart.  
  
Mira brushes some errant hair from Nasir’s face and drags him off the dance floor. She doesn’t say anything but she knows and it’s enough. 

+

An hour later Nasir’s at the bar nursing a beer, because he honestly doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night with his head in a toilet despite what Gannicus said. A warm hand pats him on the shoulder and he turns to see Agron standing behind him.

“I’m leaving,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“With your dancing partners?” He asks and fleetingly enjoys the way Agron’s face twists.  
“No. Are you coming?”  
  
He’s tense and his eyes are heavy. He looks so tired that Nasir can’t help reaching up to brush his hand against the purple-blue bags underneath Agron’s eyes. The pads of his fingers sweep over his cheekbone and down his stubbled jaw. Agron’s eyelashes flutter.  
  
Nasir looks away and down. “Yeah just let me finish this drink then we can go.”

“Okay, I’ll be in the car.” Agron gives him a lopsided grin and touches the ends of his hair. He doesn’t linger.

The crowd has waned by this time of night, music turned down. Nasir stares straight forward for half a minute before he looks back. He watches someone approach Agron as he’s walking out the door, possibly one of the men he was dancing with earlier but from this distance it’s too hard to tell. 

“What did you do to him?”

It’s Donar. He takes the next seat over.

Nasir sighs, exhausted. “Excuse me?”

“Agron. He used to be the life of the fucking party, man. Him and Duro were the fucking kings. Then you show up last year and suddenly Agron’s all serious about school and shit. No more drinking. No more partying. Nothing. Keeps going on and on about you and how you’re doing it right and how he’s gotta do right by Duro . He’s gotta make sure he and Duro graduate. He’s gotta get Duro off the drugs. And then shit blows up and now Duro’s back home and Agron’s being fucking weird and it’s on you. It’s on you.”

Nasir flinches. “I’m sorry, how is that my fault again?”

“I don’t know but I feel like you’re involved somewhere!” Donar answers anxious and a little too drunk.

“Hey, hey,” Nasir says, placing a calming hand on Donar’s forearm.

“I’m concerned,” Donar says a beat later, more sedate. “I don’t know what the hell is going on with him. He’s not talking to me.”

“He’s not talking to me either. But he’ll be fine. I think he’ll be fine.”

Donar seems to consider his words as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Just, um, watch out for him, okay? Because he won’t always let me be there.”

“Of course I will. Don’t worry. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” Nasir smacks Donar on the back, gives him an exaggerated smirk, hamming it up. He waits for Donar to laugh or grin or maybe just go back to his vodka, but he doesn’t. He just stares openly at Nasir for a long, heavy beat, eyes open with worry.

Nasir turns away first, watches the light reflect off the water clinging to his beer bottle. His lungs feel full of cotton.

 

+

 

They’re in Agron’s car driving back to the hotel at half past one am. It’s been a long day of traveling; both of them beyond fatigued and quiet, listening to the soft sounds of the radio and the wheels rolling over pavement.

Nasir knows this isn’t the right time to bring this up, but he can’t stop thinking about it. He shuts his eyes and he sees Agron’s closed off posture, the way he’s been curling into himself for months now. His usually open and expressive face growing detached and solemn, so unlike anything Nasir’s ever seen from and he feels white hot guilt claw at his insides.  
  
Maybe it is his fault.  
  
He could’ve said something. He could have done something. But he was so afraid of making it worse he made it all the more so for doing nothing.  
  
His voice is soft when he speaks. “Donar told me you stopped drinking because of me. Is that true?”

“Pretty much.” Agron says unceremoniously, his tone flat.

Nasir tenses at the words, lets out a stuttered breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Agron taps his fingers against the steering wheel, voice low. “What’s there to tell? You helped me realize what I should’ve been smart enough to know on my own: that I was involved with some shitty people and I was messing up my life and my brother’s.”  
  
“Duro doesn’t blame you, Agron.”  
  
“You don’t know that. Have you talked to him?”  
  
“I thought I should keep my distance. I…”  
  
Agron scrubs a hand over his face like he’s trying to sober himself up. “Yeah, it’s what he needs right now. To be on his own and figure things out. It’s what he said. But it’s. I don’t know. We’ve never been apart this long.”  
  
There’s a long pause. Nasir watches Agron swallow, his jaw like granite even in the near dark of the car.  
  
“I don’t know. I spent the last few years doing everything wrong. I’m trying something new.”

_Something new. Something new._

The words echo in Nasir’s ears.

_Something new._

“You could’ve talked to me,” he rubs at his jean covered knees, feels the material burn into his sweaty palms.

Agron shrugs, nonplussed. “It wasn’t something I wanted to bother you with.”

Nasir suddenly has this hysterical need to laugh or maybe scream; his eyes burn. He blinks hard.

“Would you have told me if it were you?” Agron asks.

“I don’t know. Probably not,” he says. It might be a lie.

“I figured,” Agron murmurs.

 

+

 

He’s waiting for class to start the following week when his phone rings. He checks the caller ID then flips it open.

“Your mom called me,” Castus says before he can get a word in.

“Uh, hey.”

“She asked me if I was coming down with you for Christmas. Did you tell her we broke up?”

Nasir can hear the thinly veiled annoyance in Castus voice. He rolls his shoulders. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I was getting around to it. I’ve been busy.”

“But you told Agron?” He asks lightly.

Nasir scratches at his wrist, sits up in his seat. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Castus sighs. “It doesn’t. Look, I met someone. I thought I’d let you know before you heard it from someone else.”

“Uh, congratulations?”  
  
“Thanks,” he laughs and it sounds fondly exasperated. “I want you to be happy, Nasir. And I wanted to tell you that without you thinking I had any ulterior motives because I don’t. So stop getting in your own way alright?”  
  
“I hope your new boyfriend appreciates how utterly smug you are most of the time.”  
  
“He knows what I’m about,” he says and Nasir can almost hear the smirk forming on his face.  
  
Nasir laughs because he can, because talking with Castus is easy, because being with Castus was easy. He laughs because he hates easy and that probably makes him insane.  
  
“Are we done here?” He asks and tries to sound put out but ends up coming off sweetly agitated instead.

“We are,” Castus replies cheerfuly. “Tell your parents, they deserve to know. I’ll talk to you later.”

 

+

 

“I’m sorry,” he says one Saturday. For months everything has felt off and it’s his fault and he needs to fix it.

Agron seems confused. “For what?”

He swallows and avoids Agron’s eyes. “For flaking on you back in June. I could’ve…I should have been there.”

“Nasir.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay.”  
  
“It’s not.  
  
“It is. I promise.

“Are you sure? Because I…”

Agron smiles brightly when Nasir looks up. He pulls him into a quick hug and kisses the top of his head, holding them in a tight embrace for a moment. It only leaves him feeling more uneasy than before.

 

+

 

Shooting is cut short due to the unexpected monsoon pouring down and making it impossible to film the several outdoor scenes they’d had planned for the day. The Saxa sends them home early for the evening with the strictest of instructions to keep their phones close in case the weather clears up.

They trek over in a small group to their favorite bar and grill for happy hour and end up ordering too many hot buffalo wings and betting too much money on pool, but it’s fun.

Nasir plays three rounds with Agron against Naevia and Crixus then takes a break to sit and watch for a while. One of the bar patrons is chatting with Agron as they play, smiling too much and laughing too hard. He keeps touching Agron’s arm, brushing against his side, playful, obvious. Agron’s letting him. He’s not moving away.

That’s about the time Nasir exchanges soda for Tequila. 

 

+

 

He’s sitting on the bathroom floor at the house, sometime around eleven, as he palms the toilet and wills himself not to vomit. 

Earlier Agron had practically carried him to his room, helped him out of his boots and jeans, told him ‘just yell if you need anything’ and then went to bed. Nasir had waited until he could hear Agron’s door click shut before he’d crawled into the bathroom and locked the door.

His head is spinning and his stomach feels like it’s being stretched and tied into knots with a hot poker. He slowly scoots up against the tub and picks up the cell phone he’d brought in with him, stares at the blurry screen as he tries to locate the number he wants.

Once he finds it he hits send. It rings three times before Spartacus answers.

“You know it’s late, right?”

“’S not that late.”

“Well, I was sleeping. What do you want?” Spartacus sounds irritated.  
  
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine. What’s up?”  
  
“Agron.”

“Agron?”

“Yes.”

“This should be amusing,” Spartacus puffs out a laugh. “And?”

“I don’t know what to do about this.”

“About what?”

Nasir sighs, it hurts his head. “Agron, obviously. Am I speaking a foreign language?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t have my Nasir decoder ring on today. Let me go grab it.”

“I’m gonna hang up,” Nasir grits out.

“Good,” Spartacus replies. “Then I won’t have to listen to your bitching.”

“Shut up. This is important.”

“Then spit it the fuck out.”

Nasir takes a long breath, closes his eyes. “So there’s, you know, this thing. With Agron.”

Spartacus laughs right into the receiver. “I got that.”

Nasir cringes at the noise. “Well, it’s…bad.”

“Bad as in good?”

“Bad as in I-always-want-what-I-can’t-have and it’s fucking…I’m fucked,” he says and groans. He’s going to regret this conversation and this night in the morning. His guts churn.

“Well you could tell him you love him. I mean it’s just a start,” Spartacus says gleefully.

Nasir mentally punches him. “Fuck you. That’s not helpful.”  
  
“You want me to tell him for you?”  
  
“NO.”  
  
“If you’re trying to be subtle you’re wasting it on the wrong person let me assure you.”  
  
He sounds so pleased Nasir can’t help but hiss at him. “You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked. And you know what else? I’m not picking up the phone the next time you call _me_ in the middle of the night to have one of your ‘what am I doing with my life’ crisis.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, we’ll talk about this later, like when you’re not half drunk and pissy,” Spartacus says gently then hangs up; that unhelpful dickwad.

Nasir’s pretty sure he’s not going to want to talk about this later or ever again. He turns off his phone and moves from the floor to get a drink of water.

 

+

 

Sometimes when Nasir’s doing laundry he’ll find a pair of Agron’s purple boxers mixed in with his clothes. Other times it’s a ratty Polo or a couple of socks tucked in between Nasir’s jeans. It’s one of those things that Agron thinks he’s so clever for doing and usually Nasir will call him out on it, meticulously pick out Agron’s clothing items and throw them back on his bed in triumph. Except lately Agron’s been buying that imported coffee that he likes and doing the dishes because he knows Nasir hates touching mushy food.

And if Nasir’s maybe bought a copy of _All Quiet on the Western Front_ or _Doctor Zhivago_ and left them around for Agron to find, well, he tries not to think about what that means.

 

+

 

Agron paces while he’s on the phone. Nasir’s not really sure who he’s talking to at first, maybe his brother this time, either way it’s always the same: the second the phone rings Agron’s up and making tracks in the living room carpet.

Nasir ignores most of Agron’s conversation in favor of watching a rerun of _Friends_ , waving Agron away from the TV screen every time he starts to make a path in that direction. His ears perk up when he hears his name.

“ _Yeah, he’s living here now. I know. I hate it. He’s eats my Snicker’s and uses all my hot water. I’m kicking him out next week_ ,” Agron says into the receiver and shoots him a toothy smile.

Nasir rolls his eyes, gives Agron the middle finger.

“Your mom,” Agron mouths to him.

“Your face,” Nasir mouths back.  
  
“It’s Duro,” he whispers to Nasir, shifting the phone from his lips for a moment. He looks so genuinely happy and eager that something lifts within Nasir.  
  
Agron talks animatedly, asking questions and giving pleased replies. He smiles so wide his face stretches taut and he makes short, swift circles in front of the television like an excited puppy. Nasir watches him and feels his skin hum, lit up from the inside.

 

+

 

For Thanksgiving they decide to invite everyone who doesn’t have family in the area over for a huge cook out. It’s chilly and Agron wears an ugly crocheted scarf and a gray beanie on his head.

“You stole that from a hipster, didn’t you?” Nasir gestures to Agron’s neck. 

“True. I made him cry,” Agron says, flips a few hamburgers. 

Nasir watches him add a few raw patties as he takes the finished ones off and places them on a plastic plate.

“Don’t overcook my burger, Iron Chef. I don’t wanna eat charcoal.”

Agron scrunches up his nose. “You’d eat it bloody, straight out of the package if you weren’t afraid of catching Mad Cow. Nasty.”

“Silence or you’ll lose grill privileges,” says Nasir and gives Agron a pointed look as he goes back in the apartment to check on their guests and the other food.

After everyone’s eaten, people start to argue over whether to watch football or hockey. Nasir stays outside on the front lawn of the building, playing catch with their neighbor’s seven-year-old son Sabinus.

They don’t talk much, just toss the ball back and forth, Nasir giving out advice every now and then on how to get the ball to curve the right way so it lands directly in his hand. It reminds Nasir of doing this with Rafi when they were young, of his dad giving him his first mitt and playing in his first little league game. They’d tried soccer and cricket and football and lacrosse. Rafi had chosen cricket and he’d chosen baseball much to his father’s delight. He hadn’t ever been particularly great at it, but he’d enjoyed it all throughout high school and still liked to play when he got the chance and a few willing participants.  
  
Long forgotten memories that almost feel like another life, he thinks

The front door of the building opens and Agron pops his head out, smiles lazily. “Hey, Sab, I think your mom’s looking for ya, bud. She said something about pumpkin pie, I’m not sure. You might want to come check it out.”

Sabinus’ whole face brightens as he scurries to get in the building. “Yeah, okay. Be right back!”

Agron walks out into the yard and takes Sabinus’ place, throws up his hands. “Gimme,” he gestures for the ball.

Nasir momentarily forgets he’s not playing with a child anymore and casts the ball weakly in Agron’s direction. It falls towards Agron’s legs and lands a foot from his shoes.

He bends in half to pick it up. “Nice throw, Geena Davis.”

“Fuck you. _There’s no crying in Baseball!_ ” Nasir inflects and Agron laughs.

They pitch to each other for several quiet minutes, Nasir watching Agron watch him.  


“Duro called.”

“Yeah?” Nasir asks, hopeful. “How's he doing?”

“Good, better now that the withdrawals are far behind him and he's able to sleep and rest and everything. He said he's not gonna come back next semester, that he's going to wait and try and see if he's ready to do school again next year.”

“What did you say?”

“That I think he's making a good decision and that he should follow his gut from now on because it knows better than his stupid fucking older brother.

“Agron,” he says softly because he absolutely does not want Agron to go down this path of self-loathing, but he also doesn’t want him to feel like he can’t share and confide in Nasir now that he is finally opening up.

“It's true,” Agron says, quiet acrimony coloring his voice.  
  
“It’s not. Yes, you made some shitty decisions, but so did Duro. And he made them of his own free will. He could’ve stopped the drinking and the drugs at any time, but he didn’t.”  
  
“He wouldn’t have gotten involved with them in the first place if it wasn’t for me.”  
  
“Maybe, maybe not. But you can’t beat yourself up about it forever. You were the one that got through to him when it got bad. You were the one that got him out of that situation. And that’s a good thing that you did. Remember that.”

“You ever think about it?” Agron asks.

“About what?”

“About what I was like in the beginning – when we first met – when I was still drinking?” 

Nasir shrugs. “Sometimes. You flirted a lot.”  
  
“With you,” Agron says, and it’s not a question.  
  
“With everyone,” Nasir lies.

Agron rolls his eyes. “Shut the hell up.”

“I remember you partied a lot and didn’t come to class half the time. You were loud and obnoxious but also friendly and open. You were the first person to introduce yourself to me and show me around when I didn’t know anyone. You were kind.”  
  
“Until I met your boyfriend,” Agron grins, looking the very much the opposite of apologetic.  
  
“Well I’ll forgive you for being a shithead to my ex if you forgive me for this summer.”  
  
Agron’s face falls. “There’s nothing to forgive.”  
  
“You keep saying that but-“  
  
“But no. Stop. Or I’m gonna throw this ball at your head.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Nasir says, smile obstinate. “I’m really sorry. I’m the most sorry.”

Agron appears to ponders what to do for a minute then chucks the ball at Nasir’s leg. 

It hits the top of his thigh near his groin with a loud smack. “Ow! That was close, you asshole.” 

“I warned you!” Agron cackles, clapping his hands together.

Nasir jolts forward, fully intending on grabbing Agron by the head and shoving a boot up his ass. Only instead he slips on a divot in the yard and slams his back into the ground, the wind getting knocked right out of him.

He lies in the grass gasping for air as Agron kneels beside him, a mix of amusement and worry on his face.

“You idiot,” he says, wrapping his arms around Nasir’s shoulders and waist to help him up. “You have to watch where you’re stepping or you’re break a bone or something and then I’ll really have to flip out.”

Nasir blinks, his chest heaving. 

Agron stays in place, cradling Nasir’s body to his chest, their faces inches apart.

“Breathe,” he whispers soothingly and suddenly Nasir’s chest expands, oxygen rushing into his lungs. 

He sags into Agron’s hold, eyes closed as he takes a second to steady himself. When he opens them Agron is candidly staring at him and it’s a shock at how close their mouths are. Nasir can feel Agron’s skin grow hot against his own. He darts out his tongue to wet his lips, Agron’s eyes following the movement.

“You okay?” Agron asks hoarsely.

All they would have to do is turn a fraction closer and their lips would be touching, skin to skin. It’s been so long since he’s wanted anything this much. 

“I’m good,” he nods and Agron pulls away gently.

He doesn’t follow. 

Fifteen minutes go by and Agron’s long since left him to go check on everyone inside. Nasir’s still standing at a halt, trying to catch his breath.

 

+

 

He waits until everybody’s gone before he heads into the bathroom for a shower. Their water pressure is for shit, but he turns the nozzle all the way up, lets steam and scorching hot spray run over his skin until it becomes uncomfortable. When he gets out he drinks three glasses of water and five beers, falls asleep on the recliner watching _Dirty Harry_ on AMC. It’s past midnight when he wakes up, twisted on his side with an aching back. 

He can hear Agron in the kitchen rummaging around. He trudges in and slumps against the counter, the open refrigerator door the only illuminating light. 

Agron’s pulled out a jar of peanut butter, a box of cereal and chocolate milk.

“What are you making?” 

“Mmm, not sure. I wanted ice cream, but we don’t have any,” he says softly, shirtless and hair disheveled.

It’s dark and Agron’s sleepy-eyed. Nasir doesn’t think when he steps forward and brushes the matted hair off of Agron’s forehead, letting his fingertips sweep over Agron’s jaw, then down his neck and over his bare chest.

Agron sucks in a sharp breath and clutches at Nasir’s T-shirt, hands curling in the loose fabric as they’re eyes connect.

Nasir thinks that if it wasn’t the middle of the night, if he wasn’t half asleep, if Agron wasn’t looking at him so intensely he wouldn’t have leaned forward and pushed their mouths together. It’s a lie, of course. He feels Agron’s wet lips slide over his, feels the barest hint of pressure as an acknowledgement that Agron’s returning the kiss before he is twisting Nasir’s shirt in his fingers. He brings them closer for a fraction of a second before he drops his hands and moves away.

Shit.

Nasir watches Agron quickly withdraw, his pulse pounding in his veins.

“Agron,” he says almost inaudibly.

“No,” Agron shakes his head, eyes wide and dark. He doesn’t look surprised so much as he looks frightened. Nasir’s not sure which is worse.

He can’t make his brain work to say something. He’s not sure what he’d say if he could. He feels the sweat around his hairline go cold and his feet wobble as he turns, bumping into the kitchen counter. His whole body burns with the way he’s tensing every muscle. 

“I’m gonna, uh, go to bed,” he mumbles and knows Agron isn’t watching him as he disappears from the kitchen.

In his room he strips off just his jeans and burrows under his comforter, eyes haphazardly falling to his open closet. He can see the edge of one of his suitcases peeking out from the very back. A knot of pain begins to form behind his left eye, and he rubs his fist furiously against his temple.

He stares at his luggage for an hour as he tries to fall back asleep. Around two he gets up and pulls out the three suitcases he has in his room, thinks about throwing some of his clothes in with the hangers still on then changes his mind, too tired. He unzips them, pulling the top flaps open and retreats to his bed.

It’s another forty-five minutes before he finally passes out.

 

+

 

There’s knocking on his door the next morning that he wants to ignore. He stuffs his face in his pillow and tries to stamp out the sound.

Agron bursts in and cheerily says, “Morning.”

Nasir peeks from under his pillow and groans.

“Your dad called. He wants you to call him back. He sounded pretty disappointed that you didn’t come home this year,” says Agron standing at the foot of his bed and acting like last night didn’t happen.

Nasir rolls into a sitting position against his headboard, rubs at his eyes. “Wouldn’t be a holiday if one of my family members wasn’t making me feel guilty,” he yawns.

“They just miss you, you know?”

“Yeah,” Nasir sighs heavily.

“Well, I—“ Agron stops as he notices the luggage strewn in front of Nasir’s closet.

Nasir freezes and Agron’s expression goes blank. He feels so fucking vulnerable right now he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

Agron straightens his posture, bringing himself to his full height as if he’s made up his mind. He walks over and zips all of Nasir’s suitcases closed then fits them back into his closet.

“I made waffles,” he says after, enthusiasm returned. “There’s coffee waiting if you want it.”

Nasir tongues the roof of his mouth. He needs to brush his teeth. “Okay,” he responds and follows Agron out of his room.

 

+

 

They spend a whole week filming scenes in different locations. If Nasir’s in a motel room then Agron’s in the middle of the woods, if Agron’s in a bar with a handful of extras then Nasir’s got a scene he’s working on with Mira and Crixus. It’s hectic and they don’t see each other much while they’re shooting.

When Agron does get a break he always shows up at Nasir’s location. It’s not weird like maybe it should be after what’s happened; it just feels normal, almost too normal. They play _Minecraft_ and discuss homework. They talk about script revisions and dailies as the shoot progresses. Agron seems more himself, more content, less worried and quiet. They talk about Duro and school and their friends. Things feel like they’ve slotted back into place, like how they were before last summer.  
  
Nasir takes it all in and doesn’t question it. 

 

+

 

Spartacus throws an early birthday party for Sura the first Saturday in December, but Nasir knows it’s really just an excuse for everybody to get shit-faced now that the semester is over.

He catches up with Saxa and plays a round of poker with Rhaskos and Chadara as they share a joint and tell old stories about all the trouble Crixus used to get into when they were kids. Donar’s standing in the corner trying too hard to flirt with Mira while Gannicus and Naevia argue over who won the last round of flip cup. Even Barca and Pietros show up for a bit to visit. It’s nice, he hasn’t had the chance to see them since they’d graduated with Kore the year before.  
  
Nasir starts to feel a little nauseous the later in the evening it gets and he’s not sure if it’s the chicken sandwich he had for lunch or the funky smelling marijuana Rhaskos was passing around.

Spartacus finds him in the kitchen, sitting at their tiny foldout table, head in his hands as he attempts to get his bearings. He pulls out the seat opposite of Nasir and plops down.

“You hanging in there?”

“I’m _awesome_ ,” Nasir says faintly. 

“Agron’s been looking for you.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you talked to him?” Spartacus asks and something in Nasir’s chest throbs.

He pushes back in his chair and stands. “You know, I’m kind of tired. I think I might take off.” 

“Nasir.”

He walks past Spartacus’s side of the table and pats him on the shoulder. “Give Sura a hug for me, alright?”

Spartacus offers him an annoyed glare. “Avoiding this won’t make it go away.”

Nasir smiles back numb. “I’ll call you before New Years, yeah?”

“I…sure,” Spartacus nods resigned and Nasir retreats into the hallway.

He turns the corner too quickly, promptly slams right into a hard chest. 

“Whoa, you okay?” Agron says, huge hands cupping his elbows, stabilizing his balance.

Nasir’s stomach churns. “I have a headache, Spartacus’s doling out useless advice and I think Rhaskos gave me some bad weed, so no.”

Agron laughs softly, eyes gleaming. “Want me to drive you home?”

“I might puke in your truck.”

“That’s fine,” Agron says with a crooked smile, swings his arms up and around to fit over Nasir’s shoulders as they start to walk. “I’ll just make you clean it up in the morning.”

Nasir glowers. “I hate everything about you.”

“I know,” Agron says and cups his right hand around the nape of Nasir’s neck. It’s solid and cool against his skin, reassuring. It feels good.

 

+

 

He’s walking passed the deli at the supermarket when Agron tosses a package of bologna into their cart.

Nasir glances down at it. “No.”

“You don’t have to eat it, you know?”

“That shit’s revolting. I don’t want to look at it.”

Agron folds his arms over his chest, amused. “It’s still my refrigerator.”

“Point being?” 

“You have to shut up and deal with it?”

“False. ” Nasir answers dryly, grabbing a jug of milk. “I want sour dough.”

“Hey. Watch it.” Agron smacks his hand away as he tries to place it in the cart. “You’re already squishing my whole wheat bread with your prissy cheese.”

“Don’t degrade my cheese. Also whole wheat sucks.”

“You didn’t have a problem with my bread when you were stuffing your huge mouth with it yesterday.”

“Actually the only food in the apartment yesterday was a power bar, some muscle milk and vitamin water,” Nasir replies simply. “Your entire food selection is straight out of a Men’s Health magazine. It’s sad.”

Agron mock glares. “Hey, I’m healthy. And I think I’m gonna fart all over your pillow tonight.”

“Gross. And uncalled for.” Nasir says and tries to fight the growing the smile on his face. He fails spectacularly.

“Fine, get sour dough. I don’t care,” Agron says over his shoulder as he goes to look at the frozen food. 

He starts bopping his head, singing along to the 80’s song playing on the supermarket’s loud speaker and Nasir feels his heart slowly being eviscerated, a warm sensation blooming throughout his whole body. His head screams _stop_. He doesn’t listen.

 

+

 

It’s Sunday and he’s in the living room messing around with the dog. Flora’s flopped down next to him on her back on the floor in front of the TV hoping for a belly rub. He’s not really paying attention to whatever channel it’s on, the soft buzz of white noise in the background comforting enough in and of itself.

“Sometimes I think she likes you more than me,” Agron says, walking into the room. Flora rolls over and runs to him to happily.

Nasir frowns. “Traitor.”

“That’s my girl,” Agron praises as he squats down to give his dog long, loving pets over her back.

Nasir watches Agron’s hands, golden brown and huge as they stroke Flora’s fur, almost entranced by the sight.

“It’d kill her if you ever left,” Agron says after a beat, looking away. “Never seen her so attached to anyone.”

Nasir lets what Agron said sink in, starts to laugh it off. He’s close to making a joke and pretending it never happened when their eyes meet and Nasir’s words disintegrate on his tongue. Agron’s head is tucked into his chest, trying to hide his expression. Nasir doesn’t know what to say, the quiet honesty of the moment a little overwhelming for him to take in. 

He swallows roughly.

The sudden urge he gets to flee the room propels him into a standing position. Agron jumps up with him, treading over to the glass doors and whistling. “Come on, girl. Yeah, come on. Out you go.”

Nasir briefly watches Agron usher Flora outside before he turns to face the wall, staring unseeingly at the TV screen. Everything is moving and rushing around him, spinning faster and faster out of his grasp. He can’t hold on.

There’s a quarter in his pocket that he keeps flipping between his fingers, rubbing his thumb over the slick metal. 

“Nasir,” he hears Agron say after the door has been shut. Footsteps draw closer behind him and stop. “ _Nasir_ ,” softer this time and those two large hands come to rest on his hips.

The contact startles him and he turns suddenly, jerking away from Agron’s touch.

Agron’s face crumbles, his expression sorrowful. And that’s so unfair.

He reaches out for Nasir, like he wants to pull him closer and Nasir can’t help it, he flinches, takes a step back. 

“Hey don’t - don’t do that,” Agron says, looking pained. 

Teeth clenched, fists balled at his sides, Nasir feels completely helpless. He’s so out of control he’s floundering, shaking his head and trying to find his footing as he plummets. Agron moves with him, one step back, one step forward like they’re swaying together. His voice is raw and weak when he drags a hand through his hair and says, “I’m sorry, Nasir. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It was stupid,” Nasir replies.

“No, it wasn’t. I got scared. I’ve been scared since the moment I met you,” Agron says and pierces Nasir motionless with his gaze. “I was stupid. I didn’t want to fuck this up. I thought I would. I fuck everything up. And I couldn’t – I’d rather have you as a friend then not at all. So I pushed. I thought you’d leave.”  
  
“You wanted me to leave?”  
  
“No. I wanted you stay.”

“And now?” Nasir breathes, almost unable to hear his own words for the roaring beat of his heart thumping like thunder in his ears.

“I wanted you. I want you. And it can’t be any harder having this than it was to want it so fucking badly and not have it,” Agron says, swallowing thickly. “I love you.”  
  
He looks frightened and hopeful and he’s standing so still Nasir thinks he might see tiny tremors shaking his whole body in soft shock waves.  
Their eyes meet somewhere in the middle, Nasir looking up and Agron glancing down. Agron smiles so tentatively it makes something wild loosen inside Nasir’s chest.

He inhales and grins in return, unaware of what he’s doing before he can even stop himself. That’s all the answer Agron seems to want, however, as he steps in front of Nasir, tugging on his belt loops and yanking him forward into a kiss.

It’s heated and brutal, faces smashed together as lips press and push for more. Agron cups Nasir’s head and slides his tongue over Nasir’s mouth, jagged breaths escaping every time they exhale. Agron shoves against him harder and Nasir stumbles backward, almost crashing into the television. He throws out an arm to support their weight alongside the wall.

“Gotta move,” Nasir pants.

Agron rights his footing and nods. He hauls Nasir in front of him, his back to Agron’s chest as Agron begins to maneuver them out of the living room and towards the hallway. It’s awkward walking so closely pressed together, as if they’re welded into one. Their feet keep bumping, knocking Nasir out of alignment, the only thing keeping him steady is Agron’s arms around his waist.

A hot breath ghosts over the back of Nasir’s neck and then Agron’s mouth is there, sucking bruises into his flesh and causing him to shudder all over. He closes his eyes and stops walking for a second, just letting the feel of Agron all around him, arms warm and close, body like a furnace against his back.

“Hey,” Agron whispers into his ear. “Come on.”

Nasir lets himself be nudged the rest of the way to his room. When his knees hit the edge of his bed he twists in Agron’s grasp and brings their lips back together, messy and hot. Agron lets out a sharp gasp as Nasir reaches under his T-shirt to touch at his taut abs, fingers gliding over sinew and muscle. Gripping at Agron’s sides, Nasir lets the frantic racing of his pulse spread into the nervous movements of his hands. He shoves at Agron’s shirt in a motion for him to take it off and Agron puffs out a short laugh, pulls it away in one swift flurry. 

“Off, all of it,” Agron says to him then as he tugs at Nasir’s pants, unbuttoning the top button and sinking his hands into his underwear. Cups his ass, and pushes them closer, and Nasir's suddenly dizzy and breathless. He reaches up into Agron’s hair, weaving his fingers through soft strands so that he can lick a long, wet stripe up that strong neck.

Agron moans and drags them both on top of Nasir’s bed, pulling at the rest of their clothes until they’re both naked and rutting against each other anxiously, like if they stopped then everything would fade away.

“Touch me, _please_ ,” Agron pleads, rubbing his hands over Nasir’s back, up and down, over and over.

“Impatient,” Nasir says lowly and watches the radiant grin spread across Agron’s face.

“Yes, obviously,” he breathes, grasping onto Nasir’s ass to wrench him forward. He grinds his erection, thick and full against Nasir’s, the velvety smooth skin of their dicks brushing together.

Agron groans low in his throat and digs his fingers into Nasir’s biceps, pushes his face into the crook of Nasir’s neck and starts sucking on his pulse point again. He trails one hand down blindly to wrap around Nasir’s length and begins stroking him tenderly.

“Yeah,” Nasir vibrates underneath him. “Fuck, harder, harder. God. _Agron_.”

He listens to the litany of words fall from his own lips as Agron moves down his body, Agron’s hand jacking his cock, thumbing the silky head, over the slit and down. He kisses Nasir’s chest, nips at his belly button and tongues the defined hip bone that leads to Nasir’s leaking hard on. He doesn’t let himself think as Agron licks his lips then wraps them around Nasir’s dick. Instead he closes his eyes, hands raking through Agron’s hair as the pleasure of that hot, gorgeous mouth washes over him.

It’s not perfect and he can’t stop trembling, but when he quivers and comes down Agron’s throat it’s so unbelievably sexy he can’t even speak.

Agron rolls off and wipes at his mouth as Nasir pulls him upward and kisses him deeply.

“God. You didn’t have to,” Nasir murmurs. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Agron laughs. “Trust me, I wanted to.”

“I love you, too. Always have. For the record.” Nasir says, kissing him again, gentle and feather light this time before pressing him into the pillows. He slides down and sucks Agron into his mouth, quickly bringing him off. Afterward Agron whimpers into Nasir’s lips, tiny tremors circulating throughout his body. 

When he lets out his own stuttered breath and opens his eyes, Agron’s still right there next to him, hand splayed across Nasir’s stomach, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. It’s ridiculous and amazing. Nasir shakes his head and smiles.  
  
The air smells salty and it’s silent for awhile, Nasir’s head resting on Agron’s arm.

“Did you want to,” he motions vaguely to his open door and the bathroom across the hall.

Agron’s eyes are shut as he shakes his head, his expression soft and sweet. “No, stay here,” he says, winding his arms around Nasir’s middle. “With me.”

“Okay,” he answers and exhales, lets the moment settle into his skin.

 

+

 

Nothing changes really, but everything’s different. He still trips over the shoes Agron always leaves by the front door. There’s dog hair on all of his favorite shirts and his iPod charger never gets put back where he leaves it.

Agron still makes too much noise in the morning and wakes him up too early for school, stumbling around in the bathroom while Nasir showers half awake. Standing at the sink and shaving, he hums some song under his breath that Nasir doesn’t recognize. It’s not bad.

He stops Nasir when he gets out, towel wrapped around his waist, to go get dressed. Face freshly rinsed and dripping with water, he crowds Nasir against the open door jam and dips his head for a slow kiss. Nasir trails his fingers over Agron’s ribs, licks into that wet, soft mouth now because he can, because it’s his.

 

 

FIN.


End file.
